


The Missing Piece

by Azraella



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Company interactions in a flashback, Discovery, Fix-It, Fluff, Letters, M/M, Messengers, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Hobbit, Raven - Freeform, Slow Burn, Winter, as slow burn as you can get in a one chapter fic, emotional development, unexpected side characters helping these poor clueless guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27945821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azraella/pseuds/Azraella
Summary: Years after returning from Erebor, Bilbo receives his usual letter from Balin updating him on the lives of their friends, including that Thorin has abdicated the throne.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 16
Kudos: 80
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020





	The Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnAdventureInFandoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAdventureInFandoms/gifts).



Bilbo sat on the bench by his front door smoking. Over three years had passed since he had left Erebor following the battle that nearly claimed the lives of his dear friends. He had spent the day at the market restocking his writing supplies and picking some things that the Gamgees might enjoy as an end of year appreciation gift for all the lovely gardening work Hamfast had done for him. It was a lovely Monday afternoon. Foreyule had begun just over a week ago, all the trees who would shed their leaves had done so, and the chill in the air was pleasant and bearable so long as the sun was out.

As he smoked, he looked to the blue sky above the orange horizon and thought back on the end of his journey and the last time he saw his friends. He remembered standing there and taking in every detail of their kind yet worn faces that begged him to stay in Erebor.  


_ They all stood bunched together in the archway leading outside, roughed up and tired from the battle. Dori’s hands were both heavily bandaged with what Bilbo could only assume was rather painful damage given how he held them close. Dwalin stood beside him sporting a fresh cut on his face, jagged, red, and slathered in one of Oin’s creams. He would surely be sporting a new scar once it healed. Fili and Kili stood on the periphery of the group, having awoken earlier with bruises on the backs of their heads, sore, but luckily none the worse for wear. The rest of the company were streaked in dirt, dust, and dried blood, and each had various limbs and joints wrapped in thin layers of bandages. They would all surely have exaggerated stories to tell over ale of the great battle when they won back their home; As they should. They fought hard for those stories.  _

_ Bofur took a step forward, leaning heavily on one leg, “But you can’t Bilbo!” Bombur reached out to hold his cousin’s arm, steadying him but also keeping him near.  _

_ Bofur turned to him and pleaded, “He has to stay! After all we’ve been through...” Bombur patted his forearm gently and shook his head sadly. Bilbo, unsure how to respond, watched appreciatively as Bifur spoke something low with his newly reclaimed voice. It seemed to calm his cousins. _

_ Balin headed the group, standing directly in front of Bilbo.  _

_ “Are you sure?” he asked. _

_ “I am, Balin. I’ve fulfilled my contract, you all have your home back and every one of you is safe.” _

_ Kili spoke up, as he was wont to do, “What about Thorin? He’s only just woken up. You can’t leave without saying goodbye to him!” Fili looked as if he would speak up to quiet his brother but something stayed his tongue. Perhaps the knock on the head had left him feeling out of sorts or perhaps he agreed with the sentiment, Bilbo mused. _

_ “I went to see him. The healers say he’s on the mend and then we said our goodbyes.”  _

_ Fili spoke suddenly, “That’s all?” _

_ A knowing silence fell upon the company. They all knew what he meant. _

_ “Well, he pardoned me...” _

_ “He-“ _

_ “...and I forgave him.” Bilbo breathed heavily. “I couldn’t care less about the pardoning but- I didn’t want to leave here and let him think that I hated him for what happened. I’m still a bit upset but I don’t hate him.” _

_ The group stood quietly, unsure how to ask the one question that hung above all their heads.  _

_ Bilbo looked at their pinched features, Ori’s face was an open book and Kili’s might as well have been screaming the question.  _

_ “I don’t hate any of you either.” _

_ A collective sigh on relief. _

_ “I’m proud to have journeyed side by side with you, my friends.” He adjusted his pack nervously and with a sniff turned his back to leave. He wasn’t more than a few long steps away when he suddenly turned back to his friends, “You can mail me whenever is convenient to you and if any of you are ever passing Bag End... tea is at four, there’s plenty of it. You’re welcome any time and don’t bother knocking.”  _

_ The dwarves chuckled lightly, bowing their heads in acceptance. Bilbo brushed a wet drop from his eye, smiled warmly, and walked away to start his journey back home. Every step he took, Bilbo became painfully aware of everything he was leaving behind. _

His friends. Oh how he missed them. Bilbo took a long drag from his pipe.

Since the day he had arrived home he had been sending messages back and forth with Ori and Balin. There had been a few rare ones from the others but it was mostly Ori and Balin who took turns gathering information from the company so that Bilbo received a full update from everyone at once without burdening another raven. 

The last letter he had received mentioned that with the help of newly arrived dwarves and the humans in Laketown, who were now being fairly compensated for their labour, Erebor was now fully reconstructed. 

Balin mentioned it being “Not identical to what it originally was but marvellous in its own way nonetheless”. 

Ori had mentioned how the company were beginning to consider what they would like to do next and if they would stay in Erebor. 

Bilbo had made a point to ask them both where they thought ‘home’ was for them.

A light weight with little sharp claws settled on Bilbo’s lap and poked through his trouser. It was a raven; Black as night, lithe, and sleek tailed. The kind used only by Balin or Ori in their occasional missives to him. This one sported a small blue ribbon on its ankle that Bilbo knew only belonged to the raven Kiln. He carried a thick scroll on one leg and a thin one on the other. Bilbo untied the scrolls, pipe clenched between his teeth. He looked at Kiln and he looked back, almost uncomfortably so. He wouldn’t be leaving without a reply. Bilbo closed his eyes, the sun, bright and warm, lit his face as he took a deep calming breath before tapping out his pipe over the edge of the bench.

“Alright my little feathered friend, come on in,” Bilbo stuck his hand out and the raven stepped on carefully. 

The large round door swung open, the mark still etched into the bottom. Bilbo didn’t have the heart to fill it in. Hamfast had tried several times to fix it but stopped insisting when Bilbo had nearly gone to tears. Bilbo appreciated that he never asked why.

On their way to the kitchen the hobbit grabbed a knit blanket from the armchair and folded it into a square. He placed the fabric on the dining table and patted it.

“Here you are old chap, a nice soft place to rest your wings while I read this. Rest as long as you need, no bother.”

Kiln squawked questioningly in response. 

Bilbo chuckled, “Such a bold guest. Yes, don’t worry I’ll get you something to snack on. What sort of host would I be if I didn’t?”

Another squawk.

“That’s right, not a very good one. Now what did you like last time? Ah yes, I remember! Luckily you don’t have the same stomach as the dwarves.” Bilbo wandered through his pantry pulling different foods from the shelves. Some berries, two strips of salt-cured meat, a small round bun, a handful of nuts in their shells, and a whole dried ear of corn.

They let a companionable silence settle over the kitchen, the faint sound of a not quite tightened faucet dripped in one of the back rooms.

“So... how was the journey here?” Bilbao was met with a small indignant sound and what had to be the most frustrated look a bird could possibly display.

Bilbo chuckled. He set out a large dish towel on the table beside the bird and lay the treats in different sections so the food wouldn’t mix together. 

“I understand that feeling. If you’d like to see a beautiful sight on your way back, I’d highly recommend passing over Rivendell if you get the chance.“ 

While the raven pecked away at his plate, Bilbo excused himself from the table to go read his missives in his study. He settled himself comfortably and opened the thick bundle that had been wrapped around one of the bird’s legs. It contained an envelope filled with thin biscuits and a stack of illustrations drawn by Ori’s skilled hands, some detailing their friends during their everyday activities and others of new changes made to Erebor. He eagerly flipped through the stack as he munched on one of the smaller gifted biscuits. Bilbo set the stack aside with a smile and lay some fresh parchment out for his reply letter. He unrolled the thin single letter that had been attached to the bird’s other leg. He began to read aloud.

_ Dear Bilbo, _

_ Ori and I have been discussing your last question concerning our homes and have both agreed that in a few years, once we feel our skills can no longer be put to good use here, that we might leave for Moria. Ori wishes me to tell you that it sounds like a grand second adventure but nothing is set in stone. _

_ Your gardener sounds like a lovely fellow, it is good that there are hobbits you can trust even after so many attempted to abscond with your furniture, as you’ve told us. Petunias in the garden? I must be honest in that I am unfamiliar with that sort of plant and my imagination likely does not do them justice. With the winter approaching I hope they survive. Is there something in particular that hobbits do to protect their crops? _

_ All has been hectic since we last wrote one another but as always we will provide a list of updates that the company has requested we share with you. _

_ -Bombur has just welcomed his most recent child, a beautiful little red headed son who is currently unnamed. _

_ -Bifur has no updates but wishes you well. _

_ -Bofur hopes you enjoy the biscuits he sent along and has been attempting to open a shop within Erebor. He asks that you wish him luck and says he wishes you were here so he could share some of his new drinking songs with you. _

_ -Gloin has shared all of his stories of the journey with his son, and young Gimli hopes to meet you some day. _

_ -Oin hopes you are “whole and hale” and has been enjoying the stability of his new practice and assistants. _

_ -Bifur has changed his mind and wishes me to add that he has recently acquired a home of his own and would like to know what sort of rug you own because it was very soft? _

_ -Dwalin says hello and that he never thought he would say this but he misses you and he wishes me not to write that down but I won’t be listening to that. _

_ -Ori wishes you could see the library that he has been tidying up. He will be replacing the librarian for the time being and he thinks you would love it there. _

_ -Nori has been out on an errand the past few days and wasn’t available but Ori says he hasn’t seen him smile this way in a long while. _

_ -Dori would like you to know that he has been taking up crochet and wonders if you have any interesting patterns he might try?_

_ My apologies Bilbo but I hadn’t the chance to approach the others for their messagesdue to some rather important changes that have recently occurred within the castle. Thorin finds himself incapable of ruling any longer and the throne has passed down to Fili. A coronation hasn’t been planned yet however Fili is now King Under the Mountain in all but ceremony. Dwalin remains Captain of the Guard and Kili has been chosen by his brother as the King’s Advisor. Do not worry.  
_ _  
We look forward to hearing from you. _ _  
_

_ All the best. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Balin  _

Bilbo blinked, frozen in his wooden chair. Thorin was incapable of ruling? What did that mean, what happened? He had been strangely absent from many of the exchanged letters, Bilbo had assumed that Thorin was busy or upset but had his injuries relapsed instead? Had the gold sickness taken over once more? It was something bad enough that Fili had to assume the throne. Bilbo felt his blood pulsing cold in his veins and his thoughts run in long twisted strings that looped back into one another. 

A deep breath in. “What on middle earth does he mean by “Do not worry”!? What the blazes am I supposed to do when that’s all he tells me!” Bilbo shouted in the empty room.

Inkwell already open and ready on his desk, he pulled his quill from the ink so quickly that a large dark splatter streaked the parchment. He frantically wrote a response demanding answers, skipping all the questions and lovely messages his friends had left for him and instead focusing solely on the final paragraph.

The letter was still wet when he rolled it up, ink smearing and smudging on his fingers. Bilbo would never under any circumstance send such a mess to anyone but he was far too panicked to notice or care. He jogged to the kitchen where the raven was nestled in his dinner plate lazily pecking around himself for forgotten crumbs.

“Kiln, something’s happened to Thorin! You must take this letter back to Erebor immediately.” 

The bird tucked his head under his wing and ignored him.

Bilbo gaped and poked the scroll lightly into its wing but the raven was having none of it and instead picked it up with his beak and threw it to the ground. 

“Hey! The nerve. Please, I know I told you to rest as long as you’d like but this is urgent. You must help me.”

Ignored. 

Unsure what else to do, Bilbo scoffed, taking his letter and ran out his door to the Gamgees’ abode. Hamfast was outside on his own, polishing their mailbox in the dimming light of a peach coloured sunset.

“Good evening Mr. Bilbo, how are you this fine da-“

“Mail!”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Bilbo took a deep breath in, “I need to send a letter urgently but the messenger bird won’t fly. I don’t know what else to do?”

“Oh, is that all? Have you tried the messenger that collects outbound Shire mail on the edge of town?” Hamfast wiped his sweaty forehead.

“Hamfast Gamgee, you are a genius! Thank you.” Bilbo took off running toward the edge of town as he called his thanks over his shoulder.

The gardener scratched his stubbly chin confused, “Hm. First time for everything I suppose”.

Bilbo ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, the brisk air prickling his skin and making him momentarily regret leaving his home without an overcoat. He approached the messenger’s post, a large wooden box for letters and a wooden bench were all he could see. Looking to the distance he could see no one nearby. As he turned, he came face to face with a wooden sign staked into the ground, facing the wooden box:

_ MAIL PICK UP EVERY SUNDAY MORNING _

A frustrated huff, “I can’t believe I missed it by a day... just my luck.” He ran an ink splattered hand through his curly hair.

“Missed the messenger, did you?” 

Bilbo startled violently, jumping back from the strange voice. It was a man, tall and dark with dark eyes and a thin beard, walking beside a mottled horse with its reins loosely held in his hand. 

“Terribly sorry Mr. Hobbit, didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man chuckled lightheartedly. 

“Oh, are you a ranger?”

“That I am. Just doing my rounds. I don’t usually see you little folk on this path so late but it’s been a lucky evening since you’re the second one I’ve seen. Did you miss the messenger?” The horse leaned its head down for affectionate pats on the head from its rider, which were happily obliged.

“Yes! It’s an urgent letter and my messenger bird refuses to take it.”

“That’s a smart bird, there’s a storm coming and it wouldn’t be safe for your bird to travel.”

“Is there any way you can help me? Please, it’s urgent!”

“I wish I could, honestly I do but this is my route and with the storm coming I can’t risk not being here in case any creatures try getting past. We’re not sure how bad the storm will be but we can’t risk another attack like the one that happened during the Fell Winter years ago.”

“Oh... You’re right, we can’t have that happen again.”

The man diverted his gaze to his horse and asked, “Might I ask what’s so urgent that has you running about without a coat in the evening before a storm?”

“Something has happened to someone I-... to my friend...and I am very worried about him.”

Silence

”Your friend ey? Well, Mr. Hobbit, your friend certainly is lucky to have such loyalty and care in you.” His horse nickered as if in agreement.

Bilbo wasn’t quite certain how to respond to that, loyalty certainly but care? Did he?

“Please, sir Ranger, call me Bilbo.” The hobbit held his hand out and up for a handshake.

The friendly man stopped petting his horse long enough to take his hand and firmly shake it with a hearty laugh, “Please call me Thurlow. ‘Sir Ranger’ was my father”.

“Oh, was he really?”

“Well, no. Not at all, he’s a carpenter in Dale. I’ve just always wanted to tell that joke but no one has ever lined it up so perfectly before.”

Bilbo chuckled, “You remind me of a friend I have back in Erebor”.

The ranger stood a bit taller, “That sounds like a complement and I will surely take it as such”. 

Seconds of companionable silence ticked by before the ranger startled at his thoughts.

“Wait! Did you say your name was Bilbo? And you have a friend in Erebor?” Thurlow looked to the side, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and rubbing his fingers together nervously. 

Bilbo nodded.

“Tell you what, Bilbo. Go home for tonight, it is late and beginning to snow after all. Then if your bird isn’t ready to travel by tomorrow at midday, come back to this spot and I’ll have enough daylight to be able to help carry it to town for them to try sending out.”

Bilbo stared, mouth ajar, “You would help me tomorrow? That’s fantastic! Thank you Thurlow-“

“But you have to promise to go home right now though!” Thurlow interrupted abruptly, turning Bilbo around by the shoulders and nudging him gently back in the direction he came from.

Bilbo was confused by the sudden manhandling but willing to play along.

“Alright, I’m going. Thank you again.”

Thurlow waved happily before walking off in the opposite direction, his horse following close beside him. 

Bilbo smiled and turned to walk back home.

The path toward Bag End was canopied by the large bare tree branches that lined the wood. The sun had nearly set, no longer was it visible above the horizon. He shivered feeling the snowflakes settle on his extremities. He was really starting to regret not grabbing his coat, but no matter he was nearly home just a sharp turn followed by a a bit of an uphill slope left to go. 

In his hands, Bilbo felt the parchment dampen at the edges and felt his mind wander back to its subject.

Why had Balin not told him what was wrong? Was it truly nothing to worry about or was he hiding something? He trusted Balin but he also knew him to be a dwarf to put obligation above most else, so was he being sworn to secrecy? Would a letter back even do any good or would Balin shrug it off as nothing and leave Bilbo fretting? 

Why had all the others written about pleasantries when a major shift was occurring in their very kingdom? Did no one else know? Was it too recent? Were they sworn to secrecy too? Were they only putting on happy faces for Bilbo’s messages? 

Why had Thorin not passed along any news recently? Was he fine and just busy?

What if the gold sickness had returned? What could possibly have lead the proud stubborn dwarf whose sole mission was the reclaiming of Erebor to leaving his rightful throne? Was he sick or hurt or dying?! 

Why was he so panicked? He had run out the door coatless and raving like a madman because Thorin was not longer on the throne. Everything would surely be alright, Erebor was a thriving kingdom now with doctors and supplies, Thorin wasn’t stuck in the middle of nowhere. 

He had traveled across middle earth to help Thorin. 

He had fought and riddled with a murderous creature to get back him.

He had thrown himself before the fiercest orcs and wargs to protect him. 

He fought giant spiders and broken him out of prison in a rival kingdom, nearly drowned, crawled through sewage, and faced a living fire-breathing dragon for him.

Why had he panicked so?

He had risked his life to protect Thorin and his home countless times. 

He had done that to help the others as well but they weren’t the reason why he ran out his door without his handkerchief that day. 

His friend. 

That voice. 

That beautiful deep voice singing of a home lost to him. 

That frustrating, stubborn, hardheaded, dedicated, brave, handsome...

“Oh.”  
  


Bilbo stood staring in shock at the rich wood of his front door, holding the door knob in his sweaty palm. 

Everything in his stomach dropped low, unbalancing him, Bilbo felt lightheaded. The door opened and closed soundlessly behind him as he practically floated into Bag End, making his way to his armchair. Bilbo sat heavily, staring out unseeing.

Moments ticked by when a feathery bluster descended onto his shoulder.

Bilbo spoke softly to no one in particular, “I-I think I- Why hadn’t I realised sooner? All this lost time and he’s so far away.” 

The raven wiggled its sharp claws into his shirt. 

Bilbo stood suddenly and ran to his study before returning to the entrance with his pack and Sting in hand, handkerchief crammed into his breast pocket. The bird sat unperturbed and comfortable in the spot where Bilbo had been sitting moments ago.

As Bilbo struggled with the sleeves of his coat he rounded on the bird, as if remembering what happened earlier with fresh eyes.

“And  you ! Thorin could be injured or ill and I need to contact him! The messenger is gone for the week but it’s your job to take urgent letters to the king,” he slung the pack over his shoulders, “and if you had left before the storm you could have at least made it to Weathertop or Rivendell by now. The window is ajar in the study if you need to leave. I’m a hobbit of my word and if I said you could stay until you were rested then that’s what you may do.” 

He swung the door open wide, still staring at the bird, “But I can’t let Thorin die without telling him that I love him!”

“You love me?”

Bilbo’s head snapped forward. There, standing in the same spot he had years ago before their adventure, lit much in the same way with the light from inside Bag End spilling out and the deep blackness of the night surrounding him. The only marked difference was the light halo of white light reflecting onto his back and metal buckles from the white freshly fallen snow.

“Thorin! You’re alright!” He shouted, incapable of keeping his relief at bay any longer.

The previous King Under the Mountain looked himself over.

“Should I not be?”

Bilbo rushed him inside, pushing him toward the armchair that Kiln had vacated when the rush of cool air had hit his feathers. Snow and muck trudged along behind him from Thorin’s heavy boots, but Bilbo ignored the mess.

“My apologies for the late hour and the mess.”

“Never mind the floors and the time, you’re alright and here with me,” he ran his shaking hand over Thorin’s cold cheek, “that’s all I care about”.

“You’re frozen. I’m going to make you a cup of tea while you settle in and then we are going to talk. How do you take your tea?”

“Just some honey, thank you.” He rubbed his hands together for warmth, “I should have arrived earlier but got lost. Luckily there was a man out with his horse that I asked for help, but his directions got me more turned around. I don’t know why it keeps happening.”

Bilbo returned from the kitchen a good handful of minutes later with the promised tea. 

“Man with a horse? You were lucky he was there to help what with the snow and nightfall.”

He pulled up another seat and sat facing the dwarf with his own cup. He looked down and found Thorin’s hand cupped and filled with berries, which had most certainly not been there before.

“Wh-where on middle earth did you get berries?”

His free and uncapped hand pointed to the raven who happily hopped about on the floor.

“Silly old boy. I spoil him too much, it’ll be a wonder if he ever leaves.”

Thorin chuckled low and sipped at his steaming cup. Bilbo let him rest briefly before beginning on a line of urgent questioning.

“Thorin, how did you get here? Balin told me Fili has taken the throne, what happened? You fought so hard for Erebor, why leave it?”

He breathed deeply, staring at Bilbo’s concerned expression, and told his tale.

“Erebor is thriving, the reconstruction help we received from other dwarf kingdoms were invaluable. Dwarves from all lands are returning slowly but surely, the company is taken care of, and I was King.”

Bilbo urged him to continue, seeing his eagerness flagging.

“Something was missing and it was taking its toll. My focus and decisiveness in court wavered; I had difficulty sleeping. So at the start of the year I announced my decision to the company.”

“The start of the year?” Bilbo counted out on his fingers. “But Balin said Fili only just took the throne.”

“I trained Fili for six months to take my place, we had a private ceremony and announced the news to the kingdom. Then I left and have been travelling for nearly six months after that.” He popped a few berries into his mouth, taking a break to allow Bilbo to absorb the information.

“I don’t understand. Why did Balin not write that then?”

“What were you about to do when I had arrived, Bilbo?”

“I was going to Erebor to make certain you were alright since none of the messengers would take my letter.”

“I had an arrangement drawn up with Balin and Ori to hold off on sharing the news of my departure until it was closer to the estimated date of my arrival that way we could avoid you leaving and us missing one another by mistake. I wasn’t expecting Balin to time me arrival so well though.”

Bilbo took both cups and brought them to the kitchen sink, thinking over his next question. 

Thorin moved his legs restlessly, waiting.

“Balin said you found yourself ‘incapable of remaining King‘. I thought you were ill or injured. I was worried.” He returned to his seat, rubbing his thumb along his hand in thought.

“My apologies, I requested he tell you but I hadn’t accounted for his formal writing... or his interest in dramatics either apparently. The message was never meant to worry you, I’m sorry that it did.”

“So it was just a misunderstanding?” 

Thorin nodded. 

“And everyone is alright?” 

Nod.

“You’re alright?”

“For the first time in a very long while.”

“Then what was missing?”

Thorin rubbed his palms against his pant legs, “The sun is rising.”

“Oh my, that it is. 

“Do you use the bench by your front door?”

“The bench? Yes, it has a wonderful view. It’s a bit warm in here, would you like to sit outside?

Thorin nodded, rising and following Bilbo, coats still on, to the front door.

Bilbo and Thorin walked side by side silhouetted in the open door to Bag End. The snow had ceased and it was early enough that none of the hobbit children had awoken to find the small winter wonderland outside their homes.

Thorin brushed the settled snow from the bench and Bilbo lay out a blanket on the seat for both of them to sit on.

“Bilbo, where am I right now?”

“W-what? You’re in the Shire. Are you certain you’re feeling alright?”

“You asked me what was missing. Where am I?”

Silence

“It was you. You were missing.” Thorin turned and stared deep into Bilbo’s eyes where a light mist had settled into his lashes. “I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

Bilbo chuckled wetly, clearing his throat, and wiping his eye.

“Are you upset with me?” Thorin asked.

“No. I love you too, you silly dwarf.”

The two sat in affectionate silence, complete and calm, pressing into each other’s sides as they both stared out at the brightening sky. The purples and yellows swirled beneath the few clouds, painting a watercolour landscape in the reflection of the snowfall of the night before. The storm hadn’t been nearly as bad as predicted but no grass was visible as far as the eye could see.

“Can I... call you something other than Thorin?”

“I suppose. If it pleases you.”

“I want to know if it would please  _ you _ , Thorin. You can call me something else as well if you’d like.”

“I’m not certain, no one has ever called me anything other than Thorin before, other than my royal titles. We can try, Ghivashel.

Bilbo nodded in agreement and settled in closer on the bench, “What does that word mean? I’ve never heard the company use it before.”

“I would think not, it means ‘treasure of all treasures’ in a dialect of Khuzdul some of the dwarves we travelled with spoke. Our languages mixed over time.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’d like to try something else if you’ll let me?”

Bilbo nodded fervently.

Thorin took Bilbo’s hand in his own and entangled their fingers, “This feels right.”

Bilbo blinked owlishly before snickering, “You’re a very repressed dwarf for someone who just abdicated the throne and walked across middle earth alone to be with me.”

“I am not repressed,” Thorin’s face flushed red, flustered by the words, “Need I remind you that not long ago I stopped you from heading into a winter storm in the middle of the night for me?”

They both laughed at the ridiculousness laid out bare before them.

“I’m glad you came to find me first. My sweet repressed dwarf. My love.”

“Oh, I quite like that.”

Bilbo laughed, motioning him down with his free hand.  


The two met in the middle, tenderly pressing their lips together before working into a long passionate kiss. Bilbo pressed one of his hands to his love’s large burly chest and Thorin’s free hand gently embraced his love’s cheek.

It was a kiss over three years in the making and they enjoyed every second of it.

Hands still clasped together they separated for breath and stared lovingly into one another’s eyes. In the distance the sound of doors creaking open and children squealing in delight could be heard.  
  
The two leaned their heads together and sat admiring the view until the exhaustion of the night before left them curled together on the bench, Bilbo rubbing Thorin’s hand with his thumb. Bathed in the light of a new day and endless possibilities, Thorin heard the softest voice, “I missed you too.”

Before slipping into a deep slumber himself, Thorin smiled.

“I could get used to this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> I worked on this every break during my grad finals and it really helped keep my spirits up thinking of ways to make you a fic that met as many of your requested topics as possible. Never have I written a fic this long or with OCs, I genuinely do not know where they came from but they found their way in and as soon as I discovered what the messenger’s name meant it was like fate.  
> A special thank you to my friends Rebekah and Zoe who helped me make decisions when I had too many ideas haha


End file.
